


The Newest Member of Dead Languages’ Society

by Gemini_Spark11



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abstract, Animal Metaphors, Anthropomorphic, Arthurian, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Gen, Historical References, Language, Poetry, Social Commentary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Spark11/pseuds/Gemini_Spark11
Summary: Poem I wrote for this year's Essie, which I never got to go to. It's about the steep decline of the Welsh language, aimed mostly at native speakers.Get ready for an Arthur bashing!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	The Newest Member of Dead Languages’ Society

** The Newest Member of Dead Languages’ Society **

****

We say that a county without a language is a country without a heart.

No- that’s not quite right is it?

We _used_ to say it like that.

By this analogy

Our heart has been pulled out

Tossed onto the floor

Bloody

For all to see.

While we peer back at them

With sightless eyes and shuffling feet, we

Accept the fate the lions have given us,

While they feast on a draig’s teeth

At the table we gave them.

Our once beloved language is now a husk of a living thing,

Tongue flat and blue and curling away into ashes on the wind.

Ripped out long ago by a crown that preferred to have us dead.

Ribs bare and showing, hardly there.

It never makes a sound now.

Not even the barking of long gone greyhounds can rouse it to speak.

It is a corpse that even the Ghost Bride is afraid of.

One person can save it, though.

Not the Green Man

Or His Champion

Or the King and his not-quite brother.

No princely Hydd

Or Baedd

Or Blaidd

Not their ever-present, otherworldly cousin, the wild Llanw.

You can.

You can lead it across the veil

Give it new life in the mouths of young and old alike.

Make it rise against the wall of wen that sought to kill it

Make it scream on the rooftops with pride

In Awst, in Mawrth, in Chwefror

All year round.

Quickly now,

Or we’ll have

The Newest Member of the Dead Languages’ Society on our hands.

(Actually, we won’t have it all,

That’s my point.)


End file.
